


we should just kiss like real people do

by leapylion3



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brief appearances by lots of others (read to find out!), Community: got_exchange, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Gift Fic, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 04:44:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4550967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leapylion3/pseuds/leapylion3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Pod, are you doing anything this Saturday?” His eyebrows shoot up in shock, and her eyes widen in return. “I mean, like, my family’s invited to some dumb barbecue and I don’t have anyone to go with, so…”</p>
<p>“Yes. I would love to.” He sounds surprisingly confident.</p>
<p>“Great.” She smiles in relief, then clears her throat. “Oh, and, uh…one more thing?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Um, oh, this is going to be weird, and I hope it’s not a deal breaker, but, well… We have to pretend that we’re dating.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	we should just kiss like real people do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrioritiesSorted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrioritiesSorted/gifts).



> written for got_exchange round 13. the prompt was: fake relationship AU where Sansa invites Pod to some party Robert is throwing because she had a nasty breakup with Joff a few months ago and she doesn't want to go alone.

“Jeyne, this is horrible,” Sansa moans, pinching the bridge of her nose in anguish. The other end of the phone is silent, apart from Jeyne’s quiet breathing. “I can’t do this. I can’t go.” She would just make up an excuse on the day of, that’s all. She’ll fake being ill, or pretend that she’s drowning in extra work and prep for the upcoming school year. Her parents would believe her doe-eyed gaze and forlorn expression.

“San, you _have_ to go. You’ll be admitting defeat otherwise.”

Sansa sighs deeply. Jeyne is right, as always, and both of them know it.

From her laptop, Margaery Tyrell’s profile picture beams at her. She’s holding a diploma and is in her graduation robes, decked out in honour cords, a square black cap, and – just Sansa’s luck – a valedictorian sash. Sansa doesn’t know her, has never met her, but from her Facebook profile, she can tell that Margaery is beautiful, rich, popular, intelligent and well-liked.

Sansa hates her already.

Joffrey had transferred to Westerlands Prep School after their… _incident_ , and he’s been dating Margaery, his fellow classmate, pretty much ever since. Sansa isn’t jealous, and she even feels bad for Margaery – Joffrey is a complete asshat, after all. But Margaery is already making Sansa’s life difficult; Joffrey’s dad is having his annual summer barbecue this weekend, and Sansa’s parents are forcing her to go. Everyone will be gushing over Margaery, while Sansa will be alone in the corner, dateless and unwelcome. A true, bonafide _loser_.

“There’s no shame in going stag,” Jeyne reassures her.

“Liar,” Sansa pouts, “you have a boyfriend. Of _course_ you can say that.”

“I won’t go with Theon if that’s-”

“No, no!” Sansa squeaks. “Jeyne, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so…bitter.” She runs her hands through her hair. “Gods, even _Arya_ has a date.” She won’t admit it, but it was quite obvious that she and Gendry were more than friends. 

There’s rustling on Jeyne’s end of the phone. “Let’s find you a hot date.” Jeyne’s fingers tap on her laptop. “How about Grenn?” A beat. “Pyp? Ooh, or Satin? He’s cute.”

Sansa furrows her brow. “Are you just looking through my cousin’s friend list?”

“Maybe.”

“Jon would kill me if I brought any of them.”

“I can ask Theon if-”

“ _No_. Nuh-uh, no _way_ am I letting _Theon Greyjoy_ get involved in my love life.” She purses her lips together in a thin line. “I’m just going to have to do this myself.”

* * *

 

Sansa was officially giving up hope. She’d called and texted virtually every guy that she knows, hoping that just _one_ of them would say yes. All of them were either busy that day, had bad blood with the Baratheons, or didn’t see why she needed a date to the barbecue. And so Sansa sits at a table in the corner of her local Dairy Queen, mechanically shoving spoonfuls of lemoncake ice cream into her mouth.

Shopping bags sit on the chair next to her, and she eyes them spitefully. Why is she so damn invested in this barbecue? She’d just blown a month’s salary on an entirely new outfit. Maybe all the guys were right; maybe Jeyne was right. There was no shame in going stag, was there?

“Sansa?”

She looks up fast enough that she’s afraid she has whiplash, and her mouth is so full of ice cream that she can’t even muster a ‘hello’. She swallows thickly and just about chokes on her dessert as she coughs out, “Podrick?” She takes a swig of her water as she takes in the sight of him in his uniform; it’s quite embarrassing, but she has to admit that he looks pretty cute in it, especially when he blushes when her eyes meet his.

“How are you?” he asks, as polite as ever. They’d been lab partners this semester in chemistry, and Pod may very well be the sweetest boy that she’s ever met.

“Good, fine, yeah… You?”

“Well, I’m working on one of the nicest days of the summer, while wearing _this_ , so…” The two share a smile.

“Would you like to join me?” she asks, nodding to the empty seat across from her.

His cheeks turn pink. “I, ah… Y-yeah, I’d like that. My shift’s done in,” he checks his watch, “twenty minutes. I’ll…I’ll see you then?”

She salutes to him. “I’ll be waiting here.”

True to his word, Pod returns to her twenty minutes later; he’s changed out of his uniform and wears a plain white tee-shirt and a pair of worn out jeans. “Aw,” Sansa jokes as he takes a seat across from her, “your uniform was cute.” He chokes on his words and babbles, his complexion flushing red, and Sansa has to laugh.

They start talking, at first nothing more than chit chat, catching up with one another, but it quickly turns into something more. Soon enough, they’re sharing life stories, embarrassing or otherwise, and telling each other secrets that Sansa hasn’t told _anyone_ , not even Jeyne. Eventually, she’s laughing so hard that her lungs are burning and she’s snorting and hiccupping, and she can feel tears welling at the corners of her eyes.

“Why didn’t we talk to each other like this in school?” she asks, more to herself, wiping her eyes. She’d never spoken a word to him outside of chemistry class, and even during class, they never spoke of anything other than the lab. She had no idea that he was this witty or funny.

He shrugs. “Different crowds, I guess.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but he ends up sounding slightly sad.

“Pod, are you doing anything this Saturday?” His eyebrows shoot up in shock, and her eyes widen in return. “I mean, like, my family’s invited to some dumb barbecue and I don’t have anyone to go with, so…”

“Yes. I would love to.” He sounds surprisingly confident.

“Great.” She smiles in relief, then clears her throat. “Oh, and, uh…one more thing?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, oh, this is going to be weird, and I hope it’s not a deal breaker, but, well… We have to pretend that we’re dating.”

* * *

Pod comes over for dinner the next day, wearing an ill-fitting suit and shoes that don’t match the rest of his outfit, which he’d picked up from a thrift store this morning, he admits to her; he’s awkwardly holding a bouquet of flowers Sansa knows for a fact he got from Costco, and he looks nearly embarrassed to hand them to Catelyn. Mrs. Stark warmly thanks him and ushers him into the house. Sansa grabs his arm as he sits down next to her, and he looks at her like a deer in headlights.

“My family is going to try to make you as uncomfortable as possible,” she warns him in a low voice. “Be prepared for that. But no matter what you do, you cannot break. Do you understand me?”

Pod gulps. “I feel like I’m in _Mission: Impossible_.”

“This is much, much worse.” _And this is only the beginning_. This was the real test. If Pod didn’t pass, if he wasn’t liked by her family, then there was no chance in hell that he could be her date to the barbecue. And that would be her most desperate hour; she _needed_ him. (And, fine, maybe she thinks that he was really cute and sweet and she wanted to spend more time with him, but he doesn’t need to know that. As far as he knows, he’s just doing her a favour.)

The dinner goes off surprisingly without a hitch, and Sansa can finally breathe again. Arya doesn’t say anything rude to Pod, Rickon doesn’t ask invasive questions, and even her parents aren’t one hundred percent embarrassing. Trouble quickly brews in paradise, though; Sansa should have seen this coming. Everything always backfires on her, eventually.

Her parents have gone to the kitchen to get dessert ready, and all of her siblings plus Jon turn to glare daggers at Pod. “You seem like a good kid,” Robb starts, but it doesn’t sound like he means it, “and we hate to do this. But it’s kind of our job. You understand that, right?” Arya not so subtly picks up her knife and begins to hammer at the table with it.

“You must have heard what happened with Sansa and Joffrey,” Jon says, clenching his fists. Sansa flinches at the mention of his name. “We can’t have that happen again.”

“Are you seriously giving Pod the _shovel talk_?”

They all ignore Sansa.

“I go to fencing class,” Arya says casually. “And I know where you live.”

“ _What_?” Pod squeaks as Sansa yells, “ _How_?”

“Okay, no, Arya,” Robb sighs, “dude, not cool.” He turns to Pod once more. “She doesn’t know where you live, I promise.” That doesn’t make Pod feel any better.

“Podrick,” Bran pipes up, sounding oddly calm, “do you know why Joffrey transferred schools?”

“No?”

“Because we…talked to him.”

“ _That_ is a blatant _lie_ ,” Sansa scoffs.

“ _Sansa_!” Rickon hushes her. “You’re ruining our street cred! Just let us give him the talk.”

Jon opens his mouth to speak, but, luckily, Ned and Cat re-enter the dining room with dessert.

“Oh, look!” Sansa cries out in joy. “The pie!”

* * *

“Thanks for having me over,” Pod tells her as she opens the door for him. He carries three boxes of Tupperware; Catelyn had insisted that he take some leftovers home. 

“No, honestly, thank _you_. I so owe you one at the end of all of this.”

He blushes. “No, it’s fine. I, um… I _like_ spending time with you.”

Sansa smiles shyly. “I…I do, too.” And she means it. She likes his kind eyes, and the freckles dusting his cheeks, and his sweet, secret smiles that seem to be only for her. She liked the feeling of his thigh pressed up against hers throughout dinner, and she finds that she even likes his too-big suit and white dress shoes.  

For a moment, she thinks that he’s going to kiss her (and she would quite like it if he kissed her right then); his eyes lower down to her mouth, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. She takes a careful, tiny step towards him.

“Okay, bye,” he blurts out, and leaves before she can get a word in.

With a sigh, she slumps against the doorframe, and regretfully takes out her cell phone.

_Uh oh_ , she types to Jeyne, _I think I may be starting to like him_.      

* * *

“Sansa!” Robb calls from downstairs. “Pod’s here!”

“Coming!” She puts her pearl earrings in and fluffs her hair one last time. Satisfied with her reflection, she steps into her flats, grabs her purse, and descends down the stairs.

Everything seems to happen in slow motion; her cheeks heat up, especially when Robb snickers quietly. Sansa feels as if she is in one of those cheesy rom-coms, with the adoring boyfriend drinking in the sight of his prom date from the bottom of the staircase, and the proud father (in this case, a very smug Robb) standing by.

“Don’t make her cry.” Robb claps Podrick on the shoulder; Pod coughs. Finally, Robb leaves to go wrangle the rest of the Stark kids.

“You, uh,” Pod clears his throat, “wow. Very, uhm. Very good choice.”

“Thanks?” She smiles at him. “You look good, too.” He must have looked at a couple fashion magazines since the last time she saw him, as everything he wears is very modern and well-fitting. They don’t say another word to each other; they continue to hold each other’s gazes, grinning like idiots.

“All right, kiddos,” Ned says, ushering all of the Starks out the door towards the cars, “time to get going.”

“Good luck,” Sansa mouths to Pod.

“I’m gonna need it,” he mutters back.

* * *

“How long have you two been dating?”

Sansa and Pod both freeze, tight smiles on their faces. They’re holding hands (for show, of course), and she can feel his hand become even clammier as the seconds go by. Myrcella stares at them expectantly, waiting for an answer. Eventually, Sansa blurts out “three months” right as Pod practically shouts “half a year”.

Myrcella blinks in confusion.

Sansa laughs nervously, and Pod quickly joins her, trying to lighten the mood. “We _met_ six months ago,” she explains, “in chemistry class. We only started _dating_ three months ago.”

“Right, exactly,” Pod chirps. Myrcella doesn’t look like she entirely believes them, but she smiles politely back at them anyway.

“By the way,” Sansa hums, “have you seen Margaery around? I’ve heard so much about her, and I would just love to meet her.”

Myrcella cocks her head to the side, and breathes out a laugh, almost in shock. “You haven’t heard?” Sansa and Pod both shake their heads, and Myrcella leans in closer, as if she is letting them in on a big secret. “Margaery and Joffrey broke up last week.”       

* * *

“I’m so stupid,” Sansa groans, holding her head in her hands. Tears threaten to escape her eyes; she is not sad, just bitter and angry and she feels like the biggest idiot on the face of the earth. “I’m so  _selfish_ ! Pod, I am so,  _so_ sorry.” She’d put poor Pod through all this shit, and it was all for nothing. She’d just wanted to gloat, to prove to Joffrey and all the others that she was getting along just fine, but she’d taken advantage of Pod in the process.

_Pod_. Gods, he is too kind and sweet; it’s going to get him killed one day. He hasn’t complained _once_ since she thrust this ridiculous scheme upon him. And the fact that he is hugging her and trying to make her smile only makes her feel worse. She has treated him like shit, and he is still on her side. _What did I do to deserve a friend like Pod?_

“Listen, Margaery, I _know_ that, but just hear me out!”

Sansa and Pod both turn their heads towards the voice. It’s Joffrey’s, she would recognize it anywhere. He must be on the phone with Margaery. Pod and Sansa tiptoe silently towards the sound of Joffrey’s voice; he’s locked himself in Robert’s office. They press their ears up against the door, trying to listen to the conversation. They’re only hearing what Joffrey has to say, but Sansa can’t imagine that Margaery is doing more than rolling her eyes and scoffing at what he has to say.

“Margaery, you don’t know what you’re _doing_. Come on; would you really leave me for _a girl_?” Sansa and Pod both gasp. “I don’t _care_ if it’s Arianne Martell. What does she have that I don’t?” _A personality and a conscience, for starters_. “You know what? Fine. But don’t come _crawling_ back to me when things end badly.” There’s a loud _smash_ , and Sansa knows that he threw his cell phone against the wall.

“He’s coming!” Pod whispers in fright.

The doorknob turns, and before Sansa can react, Pod has her pushed up against the wall, and he’s kissing her like there’s no tomorrow. Her eyes are as wide as saucers, and she watches Joff storm out of the office; he doesn’t even notice them, and continues to storm down the hallway, cursing loudly. She can’t even enjoy the kiss properly because she is still frozen in fear at the thought of Joffrey having caught them eavesdropping.

Finally, Pod pulls away, breathing heavily, the tips of his ears a bright red. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters.

“N-no, that was… Um, good, good quick thinking. Very…very good, very professional.” She nods curtly. “Podrick.”

“Sansa.”

The two take off in separate directions. With trembling fingers, Sansa touches her lips, and still feels them tingling.

* * *

Most of the partygoers have started filing out, and so when Sansa enters the backyard, she immediately spots Pod, sitting with his pants rolled up and his feet in the pool. They’d avoided each other all evening, and now, after the sun has fully set, Sansa decides that it’s about time that they sorted everything out. It’s been a messy week, after all, and she still cannot shake the feeling of butterflies in her tummy.

“Hi,” she murmurs, approaching him.

“Hey,” he replies, not looking up at her.

She takes off her shoes, sits down next to him and dips her feet into the warm water. “How did you like the party?”

“Not really my kind of crowd, I’m afraid.”

“I know. Mine neither. I’m sorry for dragging you to this stupid thing.”

“It’s fine. I mean, I had fun when…when I was with _you_.” He still refuses to look at her, but she can tell that he is smiling.

“I had fun with you, too.” She sighs. “But, Pod, I mean it. I never should have made you do this. It was selfish and mean of me to do. I don’t know how to make it up to you.”

“Sansa, look, I…I _liked_ doing this.” He swallows thickly, his hands restless in his lap. “I’ve liked you ever since we became lab partners, maybe even before that, I don’t know. I’ve wanted to ask you out for the longest time, and when you asked me to do this for you, well… I didn’t think I would ever have the real thing, so I figured that pretending would be good enough.” His face is as white as a ghost, but Sansa has to admire him, for being courageous enough to tell her that.

“Go out with me. For real. An actual date.”

He finally meets her gaze, and his eyebrows shoot up. “You mean it?”

“I’m serious. We’ll go wherever.”

“Just no Dairy Queen, please.”

She laughs. “No Dairy Queen. I promise.”

Sansa leans in and presses a chaste kiss to his lips; it is nothing like their first kiss, which had been hurried and insistent. He does not move to deepen the kiss, but she doesn’t mind. She enjoys the feeling of his mouth against hers, his nose gently bumping into hers.

Yes, she could definitely get used to this.


End file.
